You Don't Get A Discount On Black Candles If You're Paranoid

Do Not Let This Universe Regret You

Monday Poetry Blogging

They Sell You What Disappears
~Hoa Nguyen

They sell you what disappears it’s a vague ‘they’
maybe Capital T who are they and mostly
poorly paid in China

Why does this garlic come from China?
It’s vague to me shipping bulbous netted bulbs
Cargo doused with fungicide and growth inhibitor

What disappears is vague I can’t trade for much
I can cook teach you cooking ferment
bread or poetry I can sell my plasma

They are paid poorly in Florida
picking tomatoes for tacos
Some CEO is surely a demon
in this poem

Need to buy need to buy or else
you are always paying rent one month away
from ‘the street’
3 neighbors asked for money this week
We are guilty
bringing in sacks of food bought on credit

Trademark this poem mark this poem with a scan code
on the front and digitally store it somewhere
not to be memorized “by heart”.

Picture found here.

What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been

Odd to think that a movement you watched birth itself is becoming the subject of so much research. And, speaking of historical research, on Facebook, Phaedra Bonewits reports that:

Isaac's personal papers will be going to the American Religions Collection at the library at University of California, Santa Barbara. So all you researchers will be able to rummage through his stuff :-)

.

What an amazing opportunity for historical and other forms of research! As Wikipedia reminds us, "Bonewits graduated from UC Berkeley in 1970 with a Bachelor of Arts in Magic, becoming the first and only person to have ever received any kind of degree in Magic from an accredited university." So it's fascinating to now see UC preparing to receive and provide access to his personal papers.

(As you may know, Isaac Bonewits is gravely ill. His contributions to modern Paganism have been groundbreaking and important.)

More on UC Santa Barbara here.

The American Religions Collection:

(ARC), much of which was assembled by J. Gordon Melton, primarily documents non-mainstream religions in America. The collection contains monographs, manuscript collections and serials. Melton's Encyclopedia of American Religions (6th ed., Gale Research, 1999) provides descriptive references to the various religious groups and, to a considerable extent, the collection is organized along the lines of the Encyclopedia.

Monographs in the American Religions Collection are cataloged in Pegasus and can be searched by author, title, subject etc.

The largest manuscript collection is the American Religions Collection (ARC Mss 1). Correspondence, newsletters, flyers, articles and clippings relating to hundreds of religious groups are contained in the collection. Other manuscript collections includes manuscipt material relating to specific religious movements or collected by other individuals.

Some serials in the American Religions Collection are cataloged in Pegasus. Many other serials in the American Religions Collection are indexed in a database.

For more detailed information on materials in ARC, contact David Tambo, Head of Special Collections (tel. 805-893-3420, fax. 805-893-5749). Dr. Melton also may be able to provide research assistance on an appointment basis; contact the Special Collections office (tel. 805-893-3062) for further details.

Picture found here.

Hymn to Hecate

O nether and nocturnal and infernal
Goddess of the dark, grimly, silently
Munching the dead.
Night. Darkness, broad Chaos, Necessity
Hard to escape are you . . . you're Moira and
Erinys, torment, Justice and Destroyer,
And you keep Kerberos in chains, with scales
Of serpents are you dark, O you with hair
Of serpents, serpent girded, who drink blood
Who bring[s] death and destruction and who feast[s]
On hearts, flesh eater who devour[s] those dead
Untimely, and you who make grief resound . . . .

~Papyri Graecae Magicae, quoted by Tim Ward in Bearing Torches: A Devotional Anthology for Hekate, published by Bibliotheca Alexandrina.

Picture found here.

Sunday Dance Blogging

First Of The Month Bazooms Blogging

Ladies! Listen up! Detecting breast cancer early is the key to surviving it! Breast Self Exams (BSEs) can help you to detect breast cancer in its earlier stages. So, on the first of every month, give yourself a breast self-exam. It's easy to do. Here's how. If you prefer to do your BSE at a particular time in your cycle, calendar it now. But, don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good.

And, once a year, get yourself a mammogram. Mammograms cost between $150 and $300. If you have to take a temp job one weekend a year, if you have to sell something on e-Bay, if you have to go cash in all the change in various jars all over the house, if you have to work the holiday season wrapping gifts at Macy's, for the love of the Goddess, please go get a mammogram once a year.

Or: The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention pays all or some of the cost of breast cancer screening services through its National Breast and Cervical Cancer Early Detection Program. This program provides mammograms and breast exams by a health professional to low-income, underinsured, and underserved women in all 50 states, six U.S. territories, the District of Columbia, and 14 American Indian/Alaska Native organizations. For more information, contact your state health department or call the Cancer Information Service at 1-800-4-CANCER.

I know that a recent study indicated that early detection via breast self exams might not be "cost effective." I'm not a scientist, but when I read those studies, they appear to be saying that sometimes women find a lump during the BSE that turns out not to be cancer. Those women have caused some expense and have gone through some discomfort in order to find out that the lump wasn't cancer. I don't know about you, but when that happens to me, as it has a few times since my first mammogram found a small, curable, cancerous lump, I go out and buy a new scarf, take myself out for a decadent lunch, call everyone I know, and declare it a good day.

Send me an email after you get your mammogram and I will do an annual free tarot reading for you. Just, please, examine your own breasts once a month and get your sweet, round ass to a mammogram once a year. If you have a deck, pick three cards and e-mail me at hecatedemetersdatter@hotmail.com. I'll email you back your reading. If you don't have a deck, go to Lunea's tarot listed on the right-hand side in my blog links. Pick three cards from her free, on-line tarot and email me at hecatedemetersdatter@hotmail.com. I'll email you back your reading.

Picture found here.

So Many Books, So Little Time

But I'll find time to read this one.

"The Visions of Isobel Gowdie" by historian Emma Wilby of the University of Exeter, is the first-ever full-length study of the Nairnshire witch, Isobel Gowdie, [and] has just been published this month, by Sussex Academic Press.

Gowdie was tried for witchcraft in her home village of Auldearn in 1662, and her story has featured in books, songs and composer James MacMillan's acclaimed orchestral piece "The Confession of Isobel Gowdie", but until now, little has been known about her life, or the conditions in which the confessions were generated.

Over a six-week period the ministers of Auldearn and Nairn, along with various local dignitaries, elicited four detailed confessions that have since been celebrated by historians for providing an exceptionally vivid insight into 17th century Scottish folk belief.

. . .

Wilby concludes that Gowdie's confessions provide us with a unique insight into the complexities of popular spirituality in 17th century Scotland and point to the importance of dream and vision experience in the lives of the poor - a spirituality that is generally hidden from view because, as most peasants were illiterate, it was seldom recorded.

"Isobel and her contemporaries were heavily influenced by Christian teachings, and indeed saw themselves as Christians, but combined the beliefs they inherited from the pulpit with more ambiguous folkloric beliefs inherited from the fireside.

"Through this 'popular mysticism', they sought to survive in a harsh pre-industrial world - healing their sick and protecting their animals and crops from both harmful spirits and disease." Wilby suggests that this "hybrid Christianity" generally served the population well unless it conflicted with Church authorities - when it was frequently demonised and condemned as witchcraft.

And I just love it that there are historical finds, still out there, just waiting to be made:

During her research, Wilby discovered Isobel Gowdie's original trial records in an uncatalogued box of papers held at the National Archives of Scotland, thus clearing up the question of authenticity once and for all.

Wikipedia says:

A young housewife living at Auldearn, Highland, Scotland, her confession painted a wild word-picture about the deeds of her coven. They were claimed to have the ability to transform themselves into animals; to turn into a hare, she would say:

I shall go into a hare,
With sorrow and sych and meickle care;
And I shall go in the Devil's name,
Ay while I come home again.
(sych: such; meickle: great) [duh!]

To change back, she would say:
Hare, hare, God send thee care.
I am in a hare's likeness now,
But I shall be in a woman's likeness even now.

She allegedly was entertained by the Queen of the Fairies [well, and, to paraphrase J. Kerry, who among us has not had, at least, an invitation?] , also known as the [Q]ueen of Elphame, in her home "under the hills."

It is unclear whether Gowdie's confession is the result of psychosis, whether she had fallen under suspicion of witchcraft and sought leniency by confessing, or was she simply much smarter than her inquisitors. It is also unclear whether there was some truth to her remarkable confessions. Her confession was not consistent with the folklore and records of the trials of witches, and it was more detailed than most. There is no record of her being executed.

In 1955, retired English soldier Robin Green [now there's a Witch name if there ever was one!] believed that he saw the ghost of Isobel Gowdie while camping alone in Auldearn.

Isobel Gowdie and her magic have been remembered in a number of later works of culture. She has appeared as a character in several novels, such as the biographical novels The Devil's Mistress by novelist and occultist J. W. Brodie-Innes, Isobel by Jane Parkhurst, the fantasy novel Night Plague by Graham Masterton, and Noches Paganas: Cuentos Narrados junto al Fuego del Sabbath by Luis G. Abbadie; Isobel Gowdie is also the subject of songs by Creeping Myrtle and Alex Harvey. Maddy Prior's song The Fabled Hare is based upon the spell quoted above. The Inkubus Sukkubus song Woman to Hare, from the album Vampyre Erotica is based on Isobel's statement, and quotes her words at the end of the lyrics. The Confession of Isobel Gowdie is a work for symphony orchestra by the Scottish composer James MacMillan.

Can I just say that this:

It is unclear whether Gowdie's confession is the result of psychosis, whether she had fallen under suspicion of witchcraft and sought leniency by confessing, or was she simply much smarter than her inquisitors. It is also unclear whether there was some truth to her remarkable confessions.

is so much better than most Wiki posts, and so much more open, that it completely rocks.

More on the Emma Wilby.

Still Enough To Get You Killed

Hacked to death, this time.

CALASIAO, Pangasinan – A 69-year old woman, who was being suspected as a witch, died after she was stabbed and hacked to death by a 36-year old man, whose relative was one of the alleged victims of the former at Lumban here Thursday afternoon. . . . Initial [reports] showed that the victim has been suspected of being a witch who reportedly toyed with the suspect's female relative, who eventully suffered from mental disorders.

Witnesses informed police investigators that the suspect had been seen around Albania's residence over the past several days, obviously conducting a surveillance of the woman’s daily routine so that he could work out his plan against her.

Albania reported the matter to barangay officials but nothing was done about the said report.
. . .

Relatives of the victim vehemently denied the allegation that their dead kin was a witch, saying that such suspicion has never been proven.

It's easy to dismiss cases such as this one as something that only happens "over there" or, when they move to England, as things that only happen to "other people." As we move into increasingly bad economic times, declining oil, and ever-worse environmental disasters and stresses (cough*waterwars*cough), those dismissals sound increasingly like people whistling in the dark. But we're Witches. We willingly explore the dark. And we'd better begin to do more than whistle about this problem.

Lammas Hireling.

Fruits Of The First Harvest

August

~Mary Oliver

When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns, I spend

all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is. In the dark
creeks that run by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.

Picture found here.

May your happy tongue enjoy all the fruits of Lughnasadah.

I Felt The Earth Move

How It's Done.



Dear Messers Reid and Obama,

Please make a note.

Nature Deficit Disorder

This is, I think, such a hopeful and optimistic speech. A wonderful antidote. It's worth listening all the way through.

Thursday Celt Blogging

Because

An Unusual Way To Spend The Summer

Nice to see Minerva get some TLC.

Perched at Brooklyn's highest natural point (200 ft. above sea level) in Green-Wood cemetery, the Roman Goddess Minerva received a fresh waxing Tuesday morning, courtesy of a few French volunteers (and one American).

"I know that when I'm back in France I'll tell everybody that I know that there's this great cemetery and this great statue," said Ines Reulet, 21 from France, one of six volunteers in New York for the next two weeks with the Preservation Volunteers of America program.

. . .

She and the other volunteers spent the morning applying fresh coats of wax to Minerva and will be tidying up some granite tombstones for the rest of the afternoon.

Richard Moylan, president of Green-Wood Cemetery, says the statue was placed there by the local businessman Charles Higgins in 1920 to commemorate the Battle of Brooklyn. "She is saluting the Statue of Liberty. And that's especially important with our French volunteers, since the statue was a gift from France and France helped us with the Revolutionary War," Moylan says. "And Liberty is actually, we think, looking right at us, so Minerva is saluting her."

Gotta say that doing restoration work in a cemetery does sound cool. And who knew there were two Goddesses in NYC (Liberty and Minerva) facing each other?

Picture found here.

Simple

People keep doing it. I'm going to keep complaining about it.

If you capitalize the names of other religions, you should capitalize "Pagan."

Not. complicated.

Picture found here.

Daily Recommended Requirement

Suburban Safari

The other week, when we were at his favorite nature center, G/Son & I saw a display about this book.

Who knew that an investigation into that patch of grass in the backyard could be so fruitful - and so funny?

More than 550 square miles of new lawns unfold each year in the U.S. alone. Although new research shows that these lawns aren't nearly as "unnatural" as ecologists once thought, no one has offered an accessible exploration of this novel habitat - until now.

Equipped with a lawn chair and her infectious curiosity, Hannah Holmes spends a year in her yard, hoping to discover exactly what's going on out there.

Bill McKibben said:

It's . . . a very important book--a graceful and forceful reminder that the natural world is everywhere all around us, to be savored and to be protected."
Bill McKibben, author of The End of Nature

Don't let the word "suburban" (which has become quite the red-headed-step-child of modern thinking) turn you off. The process of observation that Ms. Holmes describes is as valid for a bit of urban park, a stretch of weeds alongside the interstate, a container garden on an urban apartment balcony, as it is for a suburban lawn or a patch of rural meadowland. This would be a great book to read with bright middle school-age children. And it's a great book for parents and grandparents to read as they attempt to help their beloved children come into relationship with nature.

It really doesn't matter how incredibly urban your environment (your beloved child's environment) may be. NRDC recently sent out an email describing a wildlife refuge accessible by public transportation from New York City, a refuge from which the Empire State Building is clearly visible.

At the heart of this special place is a wildlife refuge, the only one of its kind in the national park system. But the true wonder of it is that it is in New York City, my hometown.

I am speaking of Jamaica Bay, which sits at the southern intersection of Brooklyn and Queens—so close to me I can get to it by public transit. My web design firm works with an NPS partner organization, the National Parks of New York Harbor Conservancy, so that is another point of connection for me.

Within Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge, you can hike wooded trails, kayak through wetlands and do world-class bird-watching. Some 330 bird species have been observed there—20% of North America's total. And you don't need to know a sandpiper from a tern to enjoy the spectacle.

Birds are not all. Jamaica Bay is home to 60 species of butterfly and 80 species of fish, as well as reptiles, amphibians and small mammals. Every spring diamondback terrapins crawl up on the beach to lay their eggs. The horseshoe crabs also come ashore to mate and dig nests, as I have witnessed myself on a guided walk with park rangers.

This sanctuary for humans and wildlife is like another world. And yet, from certain spots, the Empire State Building is clearly visible in the distance. The "A" train periodically rattles across a bridge (yes, that storied train of song) and planes from nearby JFK Airport rise overhead.

A half-an-hour on Google should yield several places you can access with your beloved child.

It is still unclear what the future holds for Jamaica Bay, but the prospects have begun to look brighter. From your vantage, wherever you reside, it may not seem to matter much. Jamaica Bay will never match the majesty of the great wild places that you dream of visiting one day. But Jamaica Bay is in a city where millions of people live—and can be visited any day. That, in a nutshell, is the beauty of it.

The term "Pagan" comes from the Latin word "paganus" which means "country dweller", or "rustic." But, today, most Pagans live in urban environments. We've got, I'm begging you, on my knees, we've got to get our kids in touch with nature, wherever they live. Especially, I think, when they live in the suburbs and the cities.

What will you do? When will you do it? Don't make the perfect the enemy of the good. What can you do this weekend? Will you do it? What else will you be doing that's more important?

Spiral Scouts can often help.

Picture found here.

No Child Left Inside

Can You Feel It?

For about 30 seconds tonight, I could feel the change. Almost everything except for the black-eyed-susans, the toad lilies, and the pineapple sage is through blooming. A few birch leaves have begun to fall. I'll hear acorns hitting the roof within weeks. We're into tomatoes, corn, patty pan squash. Here we go, the wheel is turning round.

How lucky I am to watch it. Again. It never gets old.

I've Said It Before: I Would Chew Off My Right Arm To Write Like Athenae

Athenae is talking about journalism, but what she says goes beyond that.

Just be who you wanted to be when you grew up. It isn't that hard. Okay, it's horrendously hard, but on balance it is not harder than making your whole life about why you aren't the person you wanted to be and why you don't have the life you wanted to have. That, and believe me I speak from experience, is exhausting. Everyone I know who has had their soul sucked out had it happen as a result of a moment when they knew the right thing to do, and did the opposite. This is the same thing. They'll make a pile of excuses and every last one of them will be some desperate attempt not to do what they know in their bones needs to be done.

Anias Nin said that, in the end, the risk to remain tight in a bud is worse than the risk involved in just going ahead, opening up, and blooming. I see it every day in my garden. Yet, unlike us, the plants almost always, always, always choose to open the bud, to turn the blossom to seed, to be cracked open by cold, water, warmth.

Athenae's post reminds me a bit of this and this.

Everyone I know who has had their soul sucked out had it happen as a result of a moment when they knew the right thing to do, and did the opposite.

Jung famously said that:

existential suffering is the result of our trying to avoid pain, by denial and repression. None of us wants pain. We naturally shun it. But doing so is like the spleen refusing to do its job. It leads to big trouble, dis-ease, and real problems. In the realm of the psyche, these are called “neuroses.” Jung identified the long-term habit of repression (our “stuffing” unpleasant feelings, facts, etc. within) as the cause of neuroses.

Because we all do this, we are all “neurotic” to one degree or another. This is “meaningless” suffering because it makes no sense, has no significance, and gives us no benefit. This form of suffering, in other words, is not a gift.

The form of suffering that is meaningful comes when we stop repressing and take up our moral task as humans to deal consciously with our pain. In this process, we take up the pain that is endemic to living and work with it, in the knowledge that pain has a purpose. It is a warning, with an intrinsic message. We need to listen to our inner voices to learn this message.

Meaningless pain is knowing what to do and doing the opposite; refusing to take up our moral task as humans to deal consciously with our pain. Being human is taking up the moral task (and, let's be honest, sometimes, it was a good thing for us, as children, to "stuff" it to be dealt with later, but, well, later is now) of dealing with "the pain," of dealing with what we know in our bones needs to be done.


I think what's stopping me is simple sloth. Habit. The ability to be always "too busy" at "just this moment." What's stopping you?

What's pushing me is my desire to be fully alive, my awareness of my Better Self, the notion that this was really all supposed to be fulfilling, and glorious, and fun. What's pushing you?

I'm An Amazingly Patient Woman.

People keep doing it. I'm going to keep complaining about it.

In spite of what is, generally, a nice, neutral article, Maggie Fitzroy refuses to use a capital letter when writing about Pagans. Does she do the same when writing about xians, or Jews, or Buddhists, or Muslims?

And, note the quotation marks around the words high priestess:

"On the full moon, we use the energy from that to bring good things into our lives," said Holly Charland, the temple's 'high priestess.'"

Does Ms Fitzroy use quotation marks when discussing a Catholic "priest," a Jewish "rabbi," or a Muslim "iman"?

People, it's really, really simple. If you capitalize the names of some religions and/or religious groups, you should capitalize Pagans. If you don't put quotation marks around the religious titles of other celebrants, don't put quotation marks around Pagan priestesses.

Simple. Uncomplicated. Really.

I May Have A Friend Or Two Who Loves Beautiful Shoes

Regular readers are well-aware of my periodic "Declutter!" declarations. (Speaking of which, here are some amazing and counter-intuitive suggestions. Hat tip: Christine Kane.) And since the beginning of 2010, I've been on an even more major "I'm not spending any money" campaign. The economy's crap and, sadly, the current administration shows zero understanding that it needs to actually stimulate the economy (hint: It's spelled W-P-A, not B-A-I-L-O-U-T-W-A-L-L-S-T-R-E-E-T). My current investment strategy is: horde cash and pay off the mortgage (which, at a bit above 4%, is way more than I can make anywhere else) in about triple time. And, a few years ago, I took a look at my shoe collection and realized that, other than a yearly new pair of walking shoes, and the occasional new flip flop (which is what I really live in, anyway, everywhere outside of work), I can probably live the rest of my life w/o buying any new shoes.

But I would pay good cash, tomorrow, on the barrel head, for these Tara hightops by Amanda Yoakum. Check out the soles!!!

Dear Ms. Yoakum, hie thee to Cafe Press or Zazzle or etsy.

Picture found here.

Bad Druids! Bad!

"They ran riot down Front Street," said local resident Len Thenbredth, 64, "we we'e feared for our lives last year. They knocked down Mrs Thristlwatts rhododendron and threw a garden gnome through the butcher's window last year."

OK, it's not funny. I wouldn't like someone knocking down Mrs. Thristlwatt's rhododendron, not one bit. I say that as a woman who's never had good luck w/ rhododendrons. And as for disrespecting garden gnomes, well!

Somehow, I suspect these half-solstice Druids must be an offshoot branch.

Picture found here.

Full Moon Farmers' Market

Photos by the author. If you copy, please link back.

Sunday Dance Blogging

The Stupid. It Burns.

People keep doing it. I'm going to keep complaining about it.

If you capitalize the names of some religions (e.g., Jewish, Muslim, Christian), then capitalize "Pagan," as well.

How complicated is this?

Child "Witches" In the UK

There never was any chance that this problem was going to "stay" in Africa.

Children are being branded as witches in churches in the UK, with many suffering abuse from supposed exorcisms in which they are physically restrained and screamed at. But those are the lucky ones.

The very accusation of being a witch can result in children being starved, tortured, beaten, stabbed or even, as in the case of Victoria Climbié, murdered. It is an increasing problem around the country, campaigners say.

Police admit the cases they deal with are the tip of the iceberg, with people reluctant to speak out for fear of being stigmatised.

"It is a hidden crime that is very difficult to measure," said Jason Morgan, a detective based at the Metropolitan Police's Project Violet – a specialist child protection unit. "There may well be a large number of cases that never come to light ... it is a national problem," he added.

Children are weak and unable to defend themselves or walk away. So they're the first victims. Older people and women are next.

This is a global problem and one that will impact Pagans.

I Never Made Promises Lightly

Can you feel it coming?

What Are You Harvesting?

Lammas

(Lyrics by Arnon Clark / Music The Mingaulay Boat Song)



Chorus – Now is Lammas, Summer Harvest
Bind the sheaves tight and carry the grain home.
Feed the children, all the family
Food and plenty throughout the fall.

Call it Lammas, Lugh or Lughnasadh, but gather closely the first fruits of harvest.
We’ve no fear now, of want or famine, by the love of the God and Goddess.
As the long days all grow shorter, and the Horned One, He wanes and weakens,
We have plenty, and good eating, through His dying to live again.


As the sun sets, so the moon will rise. Praise the Lady and light the fire.
From Her body, and His sacrifice, comes our harvest and our lives.
Join your voices, spirits and your hearts. Bring your love now, and join together.
For the harvest it is gathered, and the time for the dance is come.

-Chorus (repeat)

*******

Brutally hot, today, in the MidAtlantic, on one of the strongest, most magical Full Moons I've ever known.

I spent most of it inside, running out for just a few moments to harvest sage, harvest thyme, harvest basil, harvest lavender, water brugmansia, water lilacs, water even the rosemary.

I spent most of it at the farmers' market buying tomatoes and I spent most of it making gazpacho and tiny, cold potatoes, stuffed with sour cream, caviar, and chives, for tomorrow's gathering.

I spent most of it at my altar, rocking, chanting, overcome with this Moon's magic, lighting candles and incense and smudge sticks, running my roots deep into the warm Virginia clay, twisting around the oak roots and maple roots and crape myrtle roots and birch roots and gardenia roots and cryptomeria roots. I spent most of it grounding and wrapping my roots around the foundation of this cottage, around the deep roots of the wisteria-covered shed, around the etheric roots of the fire pit.

I spent most of it knitting a warm, winter sweater for G/Son with handspun, hand-died yarn, yarn the color of burning embers, warm yellows, shining sunsets. With every row, I knit in safety, glamour, good health, warmth.

I spent most of it writing legal prose, figuring out the best way to describe the issues in a case, explaining evidence, being spare. I love that work. I really do. It's mostly what I was born to do.

I spent most of it watching a half-dozen episodes of Dark Shadows. I began a few years ago with Episode 1 (Victoria on a train, Elizabeth at the window) and I'm now up to the I Ching and Quentin Collins. When I finish, I'm going to go back to the beginning.

I spent most of it blogging.

I spent most of it realizing how much I love my life.

I did.

How did you spend it?

Picture found here.

What I Know About The Greenman

What I know about the Greenman is that, the farther away from Him the men of our society are, the more wounded they seem to be. And that getting close to Him is often one of the most healing things they can do.

The Beloved Must Die

Friday Night Lughnasadah Blogging

If you stop, ground, and listen for just a moment, you can hear it coming.

Surprise Harvest

Today, I am harvesting seeds. Sweet peas, climbing beans of different kinds, broad beans, kale, cilantro, spinach . . .

I love the circularity of this. I love taking part in this wonderful, external cycle of seed-to-plant, plant-to-seed, seed-to-plant. It continues to amaze me that a kale seed the size of a pinhead can grow into a plant whose leaves I can feast upon all winter and which, one day in spring, will bloom with yellow flowers the bees will love. And, furthermore, that from those flowers will grow dozens of slender pods that by the end of the summer will have dried and cracked open, spilling thousands more seeds to start the cycle anew.

~Marian Van Eyk McCain in Crone: Women Coming of Age, Issue No. 3, 2010.

Three years ago, when we put in the raised herb bed, I tried again to grow dill. It's one of my favorite herbs. I'd tried and failed miserably to get it to grow in the old herb bed, but that was in a too-shady spot and my hope was that the newer, sunnier bed would be better for it. Failure. Three or four weak, yellow, two-inch long seedlings showed up and died. Fine. I'm a big girl and I can take "no" for an answer. Dill just didn't want to grow here. The next spring, I gave the space to pineapple sage, which went mad. This year, I moved the pineapple sage to a pot, unable to figure out any way at all to use that much pineapple sage, and stuck basil in that spot.

And, then, a funny thing happened. Dill started sprouting in every section of the herb bed other than the one where I'd originally tried to grow it. Giant dill. Huge, healthy dill plants, full of that amazing scent and flavor. Lots of huge, healthy dill plants. Lots. Dill plants that I certainly didn't plant, at least not in those spots and at least not for the past two years. Dill that I've used all Summer long with a sense of wonder at the ways nature works.

Now one of the things I love about a herb garden is the sense of orderliness, the geometry of each herb in its place, the narrow mulched paths in between them. I'm pretty ruthless about pulling up Italian parsley when it begins to crowd over into the curly parsley's spot or about weeding the Greek oregano back into its own spot when it begins to get too familiar with the marigolds. But I couldn't make myself pull the dill, so it's grown all summer, two plants in the parsley, a plant in the sage, one or two in the rosemary patch -- you get the idea. And, now, just before Lughnasadah, the feast of the first harvest, it's gone to seed in great, glorious headfulls of hundreds of dill seeds.

"So, good, finally you're dead," I say to the dill, "and now I can pull you and restore some order." But, of course, I can't throw those seeds away, even though there are enough of them to populate several herb beds the size of mine. "Maybe I'll give some away to friends, " I think, justifying myself as I fill a large bag with the brown heads full of seeds. "And I can use some dill seeds for flavoring over the winter," I continue. "Maybe I'll use some in seed bombs for guerilla gardening. These are obviously strong seeds, seeds of survivors, even if they do apparently need to sit in the ground for a long time before they wake up and grow."

[W]e, the elders are the seed-savers of our culture. And seed-saving, in many forms, is now an imperative. For in these rapidly-changing times, there is much we are losing and much more in danger of being lost. That includes not only the native plants and animals which are disappearing for ever but the domesticated plants too. With the spread of industrialized agriculture, many traditional varieties of fruit, vegetables and grains have been irretrievably lost.

Id.

What will you harvest? What will you leave behind? Will any of it have come as a surprise to you?

Will you really, finally die
after I use all the Sweetmeat squash seeds
you gave us years ago? Your fat, happy seed children.
I still plant lettuce seeds, Buttercrunch, that came from your serious saving.
Will you fade when the envelope is empty
of life rattling around in seed form?

. . .

Food to share, food to dry, to can
before the shrivel and pucker of pods
where the next generation of seed babies
snuggles down in the cold nursery of winter
to await the next incarnation
while decay enjoys its own feast
and compost works its slow resurrection.

~Bethroot Gwynn, quoted in We'Moon 2010: Gaia Rhythms for Women: Reinvent the Wheel.

Photo by the author. If you copy, please link back.

Sturgeon Moon

My old body lets me know, these days, in no uncertain terms, when I didn't get enough sleep the night before. (Of course, Dear Body, if you didn't insist on waking up at the same time, regardless of when we got to sleep, and refusing, as you never did in my younger days, to go back to sleep, it would help. Just saying.) But there was no way, with last night's almost-full Moon simply pouring and gushing magical energy all over my garden, my cottage, my body, that I could get to sleep last night.

It was as if there were gentle electricity running through and charging everything. It was too much to ground and, besides, even the deep soil here was so full of Moon magic that it could only accept a tiny bit more. There was so much magic-of-this-place going on, that it was all I could do to watch in wonder and not get carried away into the Hill of Fairy, from which one returns, thinking one's been away a day or two, only to find that years have passed.

You can't, at least I can't, spend decades communing with that mysterious, glowing orb and not be affected when She's near the peak of her power. And my body may protest in the morning, but I wouldn't give up these nights of being bathed in energy, magic, and love for anything.

African Alchemy has more.

Picture found here.

Evohe Hekate!

Hekate's Devotion

Blessed be the dark maiden
She who was born of the night
goddess trinity
reigning over the underworld, the celestial heavens and the deep earth
hail unto thee
guide of the Elysian fields
keeper of the keys of all the universe
guardian of the crossroads of fate
she who bears the blade that cuts the silver cords of life and death
Goddess of ancient wisdom, mistress of magick
By the serpent who carried the wisdom of the chthonic earth, I pray
by the night mare who runs wild with lunatic prophetic visions, I pray
Evohe Hekate, mother of witches
My goddess, my queen, my beautiful darkness
In thy honour, I burn this sacred flame.

~ Shay Morgan, in Bearing Torches: A Devotional Anthology for Hekate, edited by Sannion & the Editorial Board of the Bibliotheca Alexandrina

Picture found here.

What If?

Lots to think about.

I've been hearing these economy-based explanations of the Wizard of Oz for years. When I retire, I need to really study this, starting with reading the whole series.

Largest Ceremonial Center In Europe

My brilliant friend, E, send me a link to this fascinating article about a new find at Stonehenge.

Scientists scouring the area around Stonehenge said Thursday they have uncovered the foundations of a second circular structure only a few hundred meters (yards) from the world famous monument.

Like Stonehenge itself, the structure's precise purpose remains a mystery. But it's one of an expanding number of discoveries being made around the site -- something experts say is helping to show that Stonehenge was once much more than just a cluster of sandstone blocks standing in an empty field.

"In its day Stonehenge was at the center of the largest ceremonial center in Europe," said archaeologist Tim Darvill. . . .

With new finds such as this one, it's esp. sad to see the British government cutting back on funding to preserve Stonehenge.

Meanwhile, similar sites are still being discovered in North America.

Where's the largest ceremonial center in Europe today? In North America?

Mischief

Ick

From his crunchy lips to the Goddess' ears.

This morning on the way to work I heard again a 2005 interview Ken Myers did with Catherine Edwards Sanders about her (then new) book, "Wicca's Charms," which is about the spiritual hunger and cultural realities driving the growing popularity of neopaganism.
Introducing the interview, Myers observed that many people attracted to Wicca report that they've been drawn by its "authenticity," meaning it feels more real to them than traditional, established religions.

. . .

A revealed, dogmatic religion like Roman Catholicism will have a very difficult time in conditions of modernity, precisely because we are all conditioned to think in terms of the Self as the final arbiter of truth. To exist in proper relationship with the Truth, I believe, requires passionate inward appropriation of external, objective realities. The key point is faith that there is a such thing as religious truth independent of my own subjective judgment. If people don't believe that, I don't see how a religion like Christianity is sustainable over the long term, at least not in any meaningful sense.

Imagine what he's saying here. Even if a religion feels wrong for you -- in fact, IS wrong for you -- you should accept it because, well, because some authority says that it's so.

As a former Catholic (and I mean the whole ten yards: Catholic school, daily rosaries, nuns recruitng me for the convent, teaching CCD, Catholic pentacostalism, retreats, etc.) all that I can say is: Fuck that shit.

Such A Geek

I'll probably go.

More here.

Picture found here.

Hail, Baba Yaga

Baba Yaga is one of the four Goddesses that I call whenever I sit at my altar. I'm still learning to "grok" her. But any old, muscled woman who can pick up house and move like that is a role model for me. I think she is old, strong, and unafraid to move. With my Moon in Taurus, learning to pick up and move when it's time to move is a good lesson for me.

What Goddess are you trying to know better?

Kitchen Witchery

Cooking w/ marigolds. I may try the cucumber dressing for this month's Full Moon.

Marigolds are often considered sacred to the Beloved Dead.

Picture found here.

Pagan Theology: These Terms Are Not Mutually Exclusive

Gus di Zerega has an amazing post up on Witchvox. It's long, but it's truly worth your time to read the whole thing, bookmark it, print it out, put it in your journal.

Here's a tiny taste:

Because they worship different Gods under the same name, in over 2000 years sincere Christians (let alone monotheists in general) have never been able to agree on central matters of doctrine. Christians worship a God who loathes us, and a God who loves us, a God who surrounds us with intricate rules that we violate at the cost of our souls and a God who only requires us to take Jesus as savior, a God who holds us guilty of Original Sin, and a God who holds us guilty only of sins we personally commit. A God who predestined us to salvation or damnation long before we existed and a God who gives us freedom. A God who will save us all because He loves us, a God who will save most and also a God who will save few because his anger towards those who reject Him is eternal. The variety of sincere interpretations arising from a single text is remarkable, and to the degree unity in understanding has ever existed, it has come from political force. Monotheistic unity has always proceeded from the edge of a sword and the barrel of a gun, not from the persuasive power of argument and faith. When freedom of belief is established, the swords sheathed, the guns stilled, diversity emerges. Always.

One often hears the concern, and it's valid, that we Pagans are long on experience of The Divine, but short on theology. Gus' essay is, IMHO, a giant leap forward.

Thank you, Gus.

Picture found here

My New Name For A Blog

What Digby Said.

Conversations With G/Son

One of G/Son's first activities when he gets to Nonna's house is to check out the fairy door on the old maple tree in the back yard. He tries to open it, but it never opens. This weekend, he asked:

G/Son: Nonna, why the door doesn't open?

Nonna: It's a fairy door. Only fairies can go through; not people.

G/Son: Nonna, fairies aren't real in reality.

Nonna: Hmm. I'm not so sure. I think it depends upon what people mean by "fairy" and by "reality." Most folks agree there are no fairies, but I dissent.

G/Son: Are you a fairy?

Nonna: No, I'm human, like you. That's why I can't open the fairy door, either.

G/Son (asking): You're a Witch.

Nonna: Yes, I'm a Witch.

G/Son (a little concerned): Nonna, why?

Nonna: Well, because I honor the Earth.

G/Son: I honor the Earth, too, but I'm not a Witch.

Heh.

And then we went inside for pizza and some "Go, Diego, Go!" videos. (Which bother me as a bit sexist, but, still.)



****

Witch. Words have power.

For my generation of Witches -- pre-internet, pre-Amazon.com, pre-easy-to-find-Pagan-events, pre-even-the-current-acceptance-of-Wicca -- the word mattered, mattered madly, and, to me, it still does and always will. Reclaiming (hmm, good name for a coven!) the word for feminists was important work and it still is.

Someday, when he's a little older, I can explain away the unspoken question in G/Son's uncertain statement: Nonna, how can you be a Witch (which most of the world tells me is a mean woman who hurts people) when I know you to be the kind old woman who lets me have Cheerios for breakfast, takes me to see deer in the forest, and buys me Silly Bandz? (Seriously, who knew how many Grandparent Points you can rack up just buying Silly Bandz for a 4-year-old? G/Son explained to me, "They're way cool. Only the older kids at my school have Silly Bandz. Grady (obviously v. cool kid in the older class) will not BELIEVE how many Silly Bandz I got!" (Nonna's inside, inside, inside her head voice: "Grady/Schmady! We can buy half a dozen bags of these things!" I may be a little competitive. It may be something I should work on.) I can explain to him about the deliberate disinformation campaign and the lies told about thousands and thousands of old women just like his Nonna, who takes her G/Son to the park, but fights like hell for her causes on conference calls, causing some to really dislike her.

I'm going to die a Witch, no matter what happens. Like Heloise in Stealing Heaven -- living for years as a nun but, on her deathbed, breaking open the crucifix into which she'd hid her mementos of Abelard (so that she'd been praying, all that time, secretly to them and not the xian god) -- it doesn't matter how "into the closet" I have to go; I'm going to live and die as a Witch. When I claimed the word "Witch" (or, more properly, when it claimed me), it was as if you could hear the gears locking, the edges clicking, the bearings falling into place, the connection becoming complete.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about how quite a few of the Ways of the Witch have been working themselves into 21st Century culture w/o a specific admission or declaration that there's Witchcraft (and I've long liked Cora Anderson's explanation that Witches are people who "believe in trees and being sensible") involved. I read about what's planned for this year's Burning Man Festival (and, well, heck, there's the actual name of the thing, but it's an "art" festival), I watch the Edingurgh Fire Festival which, every year, grows more and more Pagan without explicitly (AFAIKT) requiring those who participate to BE Pagan. (I'm still trying to figure out whether I agree with Chas Clifton who says that ritual preceeds myth, not the other way around.)
I listen to Son and DiL tell me that, while G/Son and I were pretending to be Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader (I always have to be Darth (I make a good one), and the game is a good deal like Calvin Ball: the rules always change to favor Luke), they wandered into a weekly drumming circle in the Silver Spring Civic Center. It's apparently not a "Pagan" event, but, as Son said, "Want to go with us next week? What could be better for the Full Moon than a drum circle?"

I'm cool with the notion of "Honoring the Earth" -- as both I, as a Witch, and G/Son, who says he is not a Witch, do -- becoming a leitmotif for this Century, as the atom bomb and destruction of the Earth was the leitmotif for the Twentieth Century, near the end of which, some of us began to reclaim the word "Witch." It doesn't matter too much whether or not what's going on is recognized as Witchcraft. In all honesty, we Witches often prefer to and do operate best in the shadows, near the edge of the woods, in secret. What matters is for Mamma Gaia to receive the honor which has so long been denied to her.

There will always be those who worship the Goddess. Like The Pretenders, I believe that "She will always carry on. Something is lost but something is found. They will keep on speaking Her name. Somethings change; some stay the same." And, Like Judy Collins, I think that something's lost, but something's gained in (the Goddess') living everyday. I've been honored to watch, to have put my shoulder to the turning wheel and have seen "what's gained" during a time of renaissance in Goddess worship.

But if G/Son and his generational "cohorts" grow up simply accepting that, duh, everyone honors the Earth no matter what they call themselves, well, I'll die a happy Witch.

***

This morning, as we are packing up to go back to G/Son's house, he asks me,

G/Son: Nonna, what are you going to be for Halloween?

Nonna: Every Halloween, I wear my witch's hat and my black witch's dress.

G/Son: But not a bad witch?

Nonna: Right. A good witch who honors the Earth.

G/Son: Nonna, good people can't dress up like bad people for Halloween. You have to go to the store and get a costume like Batgirl or a Princess.

Nonna: I like to dress up like a good witch who honors the Earth so that people have to think about those things.

G/Son: I'm going to be Batman. Batman honors the Earth because he likes bats.

Heh.

Then we talk about how months are 30 days long and how it will be almost 100 days until Halloween and how that's a lot, but how Nonna has zero ("that means none") Silly Bandz, so Halloween is a long way off, after even all the green leaves fall from the trees and it turns chilly enough for G/Son to start wearing some of the sweaters Nonna knitted for him and for all of us to start drinking warm soups.

I'm just going to keep on doing what I'm doing until they make me stop. I haven't figured out anything else to do.

Sunday Dance Blogging

That Thing That . . . .

Go read Phila's Hope Blogging. Goddess knows, we all need it.

Not If You Tried

Catholic Church To African Chief: Thank You Very Much, Torturing Witches Is OUR Domain

Here's a sad story out of Zambia.

Paramount Chief Chitimukulu of the Bemba speaking people in Northern Province has allegedly established an illegal prison at his palace to confine people being suspected of practicing witchcraft in his Chiefdom.

And the Catholic Church in the Archdiocese of Kasama has threatened to ban the Paramount Chief from Holy Communion because of promoting witch finding in his area.

High placed sources confirmed today in a telephone interview about the creation of an illegal prison at the Chief’s palace in Mungwi district which is said to have been in existence since last February.
The sources disclosed that the illegal prison which is built within the palace premises has no toilet facility and suspected sorcerers are detained overnight. “Yes I can confirm to you that our Paramount Chief has established an illegal prison at his palace where people being accused of practicing witchcraft are being detained overnight and this has been going on for quite sometime now,” said the sources.

The sources explained that Chief Chitimukulu has himself allowed youths aged between 21 and 23 to conduct witch finding in his territory so as to get rid of sorcerers.

The sources revealed that witch finders were persecuting suspected wizards, mainly elderly people before dragging them to Chief retainers, who in turn put them in detention until the following morning when further witch hunting is conducted by a team of quack doctors appointed by the paramount Chief. The sources added that whilst at the palace, those accused of practicing witch craft are brought before a huge crowd that includes the Paramount Chief and a team of witch finders for further divination. “When you see the crowd, you may think it is the Republican President addressing a rally, but people have come to see witch hunting being conducted at the Chief’s palace,” remarked the sources. Once a team of quack doctors endorses that the accused truly practice witch craft, they were being ill treated and fined two cows before chasing them away from their villages, added the sources. The sources added that items being grabbed from the accused people were allegedly being shared between the Paramount Chief himself and the witch finders.
The sources observed that although the Bemba Chief was dividing part of the Northern Province by bringing quack doctors, he was unwell because he uses wheelchair and his sight is very bad because of the sugar disease. The sources said several villagers including one headman Mwalapata have been tortured and driven away form their respective homes and their whereabouts have remained unknown. The sources disclosed that Malole Member of Parliament Emmanuel Munaile was informed about the obtaining situation in Mungwi, but failed to travel to the area with the Police due to lack of transport.

The sources said the situation was very worrying because it might result in the deaths particularly the elderly people who were being accused of practicing witch craft because of their age. The sources further said during the Parish Council meeting held at Malole Catholic Church on June 22nd 2010, it was resolved that Chief Chitimukulu be banned from receiving Eucharist because he was dividing his subjects by allowing Quack doctors to conduct witch hunting in his area. The meeting also resolved to write to Northern Province permanent Secretary Mwalimu Simfukwe, Minister John Chinyanta and Mungwi district commissioner about Chief Chitimukulu’s ungodly behaviour. The sources said the Council meeting was attended by Malole Parish Priest Father Edward Chimbuleni. The Sources said the Catholic Church was very much worried with the traditional ruler involvement in the witch hunting because the practice was not only unchristian, but would bring divisions among the accused families. Efforts to get comments from area MP Munaile, Northern Province Police Chief Charles Lungu failed.>

So I'll admit this hardly reads like objective reporting. And, credit where credit is due, it seems that, as long as it's others doing the witchhunting, cowstealing, harming of old people, the Catholic church seems to be worried about it. The main point is that it's still ok, in the 21st Century, to persecute people for supposedly being Witches.

Picture found here.

As If It Mattered

Here's a pretty moving account of this year's Pagan Spirit Gathering (PSG) from St. Louis Today.

Priestess Cynthea Jones once set up a ritual at Diana’s Grove with this thought: “How would you invoke the elements if the harvest depended on it? How would you pray if that harvest was truly a matter of life or death?”

The late summer ritual that followed was filled with a passion and urgency unlike many others I have attended. Until the one at this year’s PSG.

This year’s PSG happened during the ongoing oil catastrophe in the Gulf of Mexico. And the growing awareness in the larger society that our modern way of life is causing grave harm to the planet we call home. For many Pagans, it seems as though our beloved Earth’s life is indeed in the balance. And that our individual actions, from filling the recycling bins at each campground to praying for Gaia’s healing, can help tip the balance towards life and health for us all.

So, when we began the final ritual, we were not calling just Earth and Air, Fire and Water. We were calling the planet’s breath and blood, her bones and spirit. When we reached out to touch the glowing globe that moved just above us, we asked for more than the healing of Her wounds. We also asked forgiveness for all the years we have spent as a species taking without giving back.

Eight hundred hands, reaching up. Four hundred people, focused on one illuminated orb. One tall, slim man moving among us, carrying the representation of Gaia, our Mother Earth.

I love the initial question: “How would you invoke the elements if the harvest depended on it? How would you pray if that harvest was truly a matter of life or death?” How many rituals have you been to where the person assigned to call an Element got up and, clearly haven given little or no thought to the process beforehand, began to mumble a free-association about the Element. "Oh, Powers of Air, we um, we call you to help us today. Bring us fresh ideas and help us to communicate. Blow through our hearts and minds and, and, carry our thoughts, and, um, Hail and Welcome." Heck, I've been guilty of it myself enough times to make me blush. How would it be different if we really stopped and considered the import of our actions, the powers that we invoke, the truth that words have power? How would it be different if the life of our tribe depended upon the outcome of our magic? Why do we imagine that it doesn't?

How will you do it differently next time?

Picture found here.

Black Velvet Petunia

Well , there goes my garden budget for 2011.

Picture found here.

What is it that you're already dreaming about growing next year?

Yeah, How Come?

PZ Meyers is asking some good questions. I admit I've hung around the world of spell-casting for a number of decades without ever learning any specifically atheistic spells.

More importantly, as Meyers asks:

Oh, and if Indianapolis schools [which ban "[s]ites that promote and provide information on religions such as Wicca, Witchcraft or Satanism. Occult Practices, atheistic views, voodoo rituals or other forms of mysticism, [...] the use of spells, incantations, curses, and magic powers ] ban sites that talk about "paranormal or unexplained events", why aren't they blocking all of the Christian sites? Jesus was one paranormal dude with unexplained magic powers, you know.

Good question, PZ.

Points to IPS, though, for capitalizing Wicca and Witchcraft, but points off for failing to capitalize Voodoo. (Honest, is there ANY rhyme or reason to their capitalization practices? And they're teaching our kids?)

Picture found here.

Magical Blades

Here's an interesting article about a Pagan convicted for carrying a knife that he used for religious purposes.

A PAGAN who had a knife at Temple Meads station failed to convince Bristol magistrates that using it for magic while living in the woods was a good enough reason to escape conviction.

Nomadic Alisdair McKee, 34, protested he should have been allowed to carry his "sacred" lock-knife, which had a four-inch blade, after he was stopped and searched by police on April 1.

. . .

Having previously admitted possessing cannabis resin, amphetamine and ketamine on the same day, he was given a community order with 140 hours of unpaid work.


Transport police stopped and searched him and found the knife, which had a brown wooden handle and four- inch blade, in his bag.

The law states someone possessing a fixed or locking knife, with a blade of more than three inches, must be able to prove, on the balance of probability, that they had a "good reason" to have it in a public place.

In interview, McKee said he used the knife do magic and for life in the woods, where he had been living in Carmarthen at the time of the offence.

. . .

"It's a special knife, it's a sacred knife," he said. "I use it in my day-to-day life in the woods."

McKee described it as a "magic tool".

The trained carpenter added: "I would never use a weapon. I want to stress that I'm not a violent person, I'm a pacifist."

Taking to the stand yesterday, McKee said he had been a pagan since he was 18 and had lived off the land in woods for the last few years.

He was given the knife, believed to be French from the early 1900s, by his last girlfriend, with whom he had recently split.

He said he did not want to leave it in the woods because he did not want to lose it.

"I had my precious possessions with me," he said. "It's come from a very special place to me and I use it to do earth magic."

. . .

Giving the guilty verdict, chair of the bench David Hynam said: "We accept your reason but we do not find this reason sufficient to found a defence."

As well as the one-year community order, McKee was ordered to pay £250 in costs.

One supposes, based upon his picture, that his looks had a lot to do with his being stopped and that, after finding the drugs, the knife charge was thrown in for make-weight. There's apparently not much question that Mr. McKee is a Pagan and did use the knife for ritual purposes. So should he have been arrested for carrying it?

Many Sikhs carry a kirpan, a ritual blade. Wiki says that:

According to a mandatory religious commandment given by Guru Gobind Singh (the tenth Guru of Sikhism) at the Baisakhi Amrit Sanchar (a holy religious ceremony that formally baptizes a Sikh) in AD 1699, all baptised Sikhs (Khalsa) must wear a kirpan at all times.

Wiki also explains that, in the UK:

As a bladed article, possession of a large enough kirpan in a public place would be illegal under section 139 of the Criminal Justice Act 1988. However, there is a specific defence for a person to prove that he had it with him for "religious reasons". There is an identical defence to the similar offence (section 139A) which relates to school grounds.

It's not clear from the article that section 139 was the relevant statute or that the defense was specifically pled. But certainly an analogy could be made.

Have you ever travelled with your athame? Ever gotten any grief over it? Who's right here: Mr. McKee or the state? Is it the formalized nature of the religion that makes the difference? Are Sikhs, who can point to commandments from the 10th Guru of Sikhism, entitled to carry blades while Pagans, who can't point to any such commandment, aren't?

Points off to the author of the article for failing to capitalize "Pagan" and for putting quotation marks around terms such as "sacred." The court found that it was a sacred blade, but that this did not provide a good reason to allow Mr. McKee to carry it. Would the author put quotation marks around a description of xian relics as "sacred"?

Picture by the author. If you copy, please link back.

My New Name For A Blog

Athenae Speaks For Me.

Happy Bastille Day!